Breaking Down Doors
by EmeraldSoleil
Summary: After a deadly experience, Stephanie decides to take back control.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Breaking down Doors

Author: EmeraldSoleil

Summary: After a deadly encounter, Stephanie realizes it's time to take back control.

Rating: Just to be safe, R, for language and violence.

Spoilers: Up through Eleven on Top

Disclaimer: The characters and their respective personalities are the creative and legal property of Janet Evanovich. I just like to play with them.

When I worked for my cousin Vinnie as a Bond Enforcement Agent, I was pretty much on duty twenty-four hours a day. It wasn't that I was exactly bad at my job, but I wasn't exactly the most efficient bounty hunter in the world either. I tended to do my job the hard way. Vaseline, garbage, mud: I'd worn it all, but I always got my man, sometimes even on the first try. Well, I didn't get all of them, but the ones that died don't count, right?

Anyway, about a year ago I got fed up with being shot at, kidnapped, stalked and terrorized and told Vinnie exactly what he could do with my job. I'm not going to lie - I miss the job, but not getting shot at everyday is pretty much it's own reward. Plus, my most recent car has been in my possession for almost eight months and no harm has come to it. No firebombs, no gang graffiti, not even a flat tire. I figure it's pretty much a record for me.

So, at five o'clock on a Monday evening, I wasn't skulking around a back alley trying to figure out how to use a mop bucket to restrain an uncooperative skip. No, sir, that was the old Stephanie Plum. I didn't do that kind of thing anymore. The new Stephanie was nice and safe, riding an elevator down to the first floor of the Rangeman Securities building where my car was parked safely in the monitored garage.

Since I quit Vinnie's and began working for Ranger, a lot of unusual things have happened. My bills get paid on time, my cop boyfriend Joe Morelli has stopped needing Valium after we speak to one another, and no one rigs my cars with explosives when I'm not looking. Plus, I work in the office, so I still get to know what's going down in the bounty huntering world without worrying about getting shot. All in all, I think it's a pretty nice arrangement.

The weather in Trenton was exceptionally pleasant for early October, so I rode out of the garage on Haywood Street with my windows down and my music loud. The office was a few miles from my apartment building but I managed to hit all the lights at green and was home in under half an hour. If I was smart, that little bit of good luck would have told me something and I would have turned around and gone to Morelli's for the night. My good luck tends to balance it's existence in the universe with a subsequent run of extremely nasty luck.

Old Mrs. Bestler was riding the elevator again and I got a friendly smile when I stepped into the car. "Oh, second floor. Lovely choice, dear."

Once on the second floor, I pulled my gun from it's belt holster before I unlocked my apartment door. As an employee of Ranger's, it was a requirement that I carry the gun. I hated the thing, but I had to admit it came in handy. Like now, for instance. It was much more reassuring to open my apartment door knowing I had several rounds of firepower ready to back me up. The business end of a stiletto heel just doesn't do the trick anymore.

Sometimes it seems like everyone in Jersey has broken into my apartment at least once. I've come home to find flowers, body parts, rabbit costumes and dead men in my living room. Between Morelli, who has a key, Ranger, who doesn't, and half the lunatics in Trenton, I never know what to expect when I come home.

I popped the locks on the door and had my .38 at the ready. I peeked through the doorway and didn't see any big scary criminals camped out on my sofa, so I figured it was safe to go in. Moving quickly, I checked the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and my closets before breathing a sigh of relief.

I saw the flowers when I returned to the kitchen to feed Rex. They were on the counter next to the toaster, which is probably why I hadn't noticed them the first time. Two dozen dead roses arranged in a crystal vase, just sitting on my kitchen counter with no note and no card. My insides started squirming.

"Why me?" I complained to Rex, who was busy running in circles. "Why do I attract every crazy person within twenty miles of the beltway?" Rex just gave me a half-hearted stare and retreated into his soup can, which was probably for the best. It wasn't good for him to see me so stressed out.

The dead roses creeped me out, so I did the adult thing and set them in the hallway outside my door. I'd call Joe and make a report later. Right now I just wanted to forget that my apartment had been broken into again.

I went to the fridge and pulled out some leftover pizza, dropping some bits of crust into Rex's cage. I was munching on the pizza when a soft knock sounded on my door. Just in case some creep had come back to see if I liked his flowers, I fished my .38 back out of the cookie jar before I answered.

It was Ranger. He looked from the flowers in the hall to the gun in my hand and back to me. "Secret admirer?"

"What can I say, I'm a popular girl." Yeah, all the crazies were standing in line to make my life hell. I was real popular.

I stepped aside to let Ranger in. "The nasty things were sitting on the counter when I got home."

"You need to move, babe."

"I know," I sighed," but this is my apartment. I like my apartment"

Ranger quirked an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, " I relented, " so maybe I don't exactly like my apartment. It's more like I really don't want to have to spend the time looking for another one."

"You can use one of the Rangeman apartments until you find a place."

"Thanks, but no." Ranger kept a group of apartments on the fourth floor of his office building for employee use. The one and only time I'd ever tried to stay in one, I'd ended up sleeping on Ranger's couch on the seventh floor. Things have been going better than usual between me and Morelli lately and I didn't think it would be too bright of me to move in three floors below temptation.

See, I can make a smart decision if I have to.

Ranger's mouth turned up at the corners and I got the feeling that he knew exactly why I was turning him down. "Chicken," he said, leaning in close to me and grabbing my hips.

"Damn straight." I wasn't afraid to admit it. No, sir, not me. But that probably had something to do with the fact that I was so distracted by Ranger's hand's on my body that I forgot to make something up.

He grinned and brushed a soft kiss across my lips. "Let me know if you change your mind." And then he was gone, and I was left standing in the middle of my living room wondering if moving might not be such a bad idea after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: I'd just like to thank the readers who have taken the time to leave reviews. It's been a long time since I've written anything for public eyes, and the feedback is really great encouragement. Hope this one lives up to expectations.

See chapter one for disclaimer and other pertinent information.

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Two

by EmeraldSoleil

I called Morelli the next morning before I left for work and told him about the flowers.

He was quiet for several minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "Any ideas on who might have sent them?" It was Morelli the cop on the line now.

"Do you want the long list or the short list?" In all honesty, there was no list. My life could almost be called normal these days. I go to work in the morning, I sit at a computer all day, and I go home in the evenings. Every once in a while, I ride along with Ranger on surveillance. I hadn't had my hands on a pair of handcuffs in longer than I could remember.

"Steph, this isn't funny."

I sighed. "I know. I'll call you later." I disconnected before the conversation hit the toilet. It was too early in the morning for us to start debating my life choices.

Morelli was a good guy, and I liked him. Most of the time I was pretty sure I loved him, and I knew I couldn't blame him for being upset. Dead flowers don't exactly give me the warm fuzzies either. But at the same time, they were just flowers. I just couldn't work myself up into full blown paranoia over some dead roses. Creeped out annoyance was the most I could manage before my morning doughnut.

I walked onto the fifth floor of the Rangeman building forty minutes later, absently brushing at the powdered sugar that had fallen on my black tee shirt like snow. It's amazing what a good Boston creme can do for a girl's outlook.

An hour later, I was trying not to fall asleep at my desk when Ranger walked into the room. I knew it was Ranger because the little hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I swear my core body temperature jumped a few degrees.

Morelli doesn't really like me working with Ranger. He doesn't say much about it because he knows I'm safer in Ranger's company than I am chasing skips for Vinnie. What he does say is that I should be careful around Ranger, because Ranger's sense of legal is a little shady. Joe doesn't want me getting involved in Ranger's world. Boy, if he only knew.

Ranger made his rounds through the rest of the room before coming to stand behind me. I turned in my chair and looked up at him. I wasn't disappointed with what I saw. He was dressed in his standard SWAT black: cargo pants, military boots, and a black tee shirt that clung to each and every one of his perfectly defined muscles. I had to double check to make sure I wasn't drooling.

Ranger has that kind of effect on me. Coherent thought and common sense take a vacation when he invades my personal space, which is often. I'm pretty sure he does it on purpose, but it's hard to tell.

That's the other reason Morelli doesn't like me working for Ranger. No matter how much I try to trivialize it, Morelli can tell there's something between me and Ranger. Just don't ask me what that something is, because I couldn't tell you. Once upon a time it was a friendly something, and for one unforgettable night it was a physical something. Since then, I've been dancing around Ranger very carefully. We talk. We work. And every once in a while, Ranger gets that gleam in his eye and decides to remend me of exactly what I'm missing. The problem is, I never need any reminding. Spending the night with Ranger isn't something I'm likely to forget. Ever.

"Any more presents from your new boyfriend?" Ranger's voice intruded into my thoughts, and I could feel the flush creeping up my face. The corners of his mouth twitched a little, but he didn't ask where my mind had been.

"Nope," I answered. "I called Joe earlier and had him file a report."

Ranger nodded his acknowledgement and pulled a chair next to mine. "I need you to run a search for me. Guy named Carlito Ramirez."

Every muscle in my body tensed up. "Ramirez?" I was hoping I misheard him.

Range nodded again. "It appears that Benito had a brother who was doing time in California. Eight days ago he jumped parole."

"And you think he might be in Jersey?"

I'd crossed paths with Benito Ramirez working my first case for Vinnie. Ramirez was a boxer who lived to inflict pain inside the ring and out. He was a psychopath who'd fed on fear, and he'd twice made it his mission in life to terrorize me. Ramirez was pure evil, and I wasn't the least bit sorry he'd gotten himself killed. The fact that he had family somewhere didn't say much for his mother.

"We don't know," Ranger answered. "There was some talk going around when he was released. Apparently Benito told him quite a bit about you."

Suddenly the dead flowers in my apartment seemed a hell of a lot more menacing that I wanted to think about.

"Until Ramirez is caught, or until I get some definitive information one way or the otherr, I don't want you going anywhere alone. Take Tank if you have to leave the building." Ranger's dark eyes were serious, inviting no argument, but for once I didn't feel the need. I'd never forgotten the bone chilling fear Ramirez instilled in me. I wasn't looking forward to a repeat anytime soon.

"I'll be out of the building until two. Call me if anything interesting comes up in the search." He left without waiting for my reply and I turend back to the computer, eager to start digging up dirt on Ramirez. So the guy might be stalking me. Did that mean I couldn't be curious, even if it was in a decidedly morbid sort of way? Of course not. I'm from the Burg. It's my duty in life to be as nosy as possible.

A few hours later, the computer search had run it's course, so I went to the kitchen to find food. If I was going to be delving into the life of a guy who was probably just as crazy as his brother, I wasn't doing it on an empty stomach.

I came back to the control room armed with a turkey sandwich. It wasn't quite peanut butter, but it would do. I took a bite and settled down to find out all of Carlito Ramirez's dirty little secrets.

I wasn't disappointed. Benito Ramirez was an amateur compared to his older brother. Carlito had an arrest record that spanned back to his grade school years. Arson, burglary, drugs, murder. He was an equal opportunity criminal. And he liked to hold a grudge. Several of the men in blue lucky enough to apprehend him were found to be missing vital body parts soon after Ramirez's eventual release from prison. My stomach was seriously debating whether or not to reject the turkey sandwich. Until last month, he'd been serving a five year sentence for vehicular manslaughter. He'd been the perfect reformed criminal until eight days ago, when he disappeared off the face of the earth.

There was picture with Ramirez's file, a mugshot from his most recent arrest. The resemblance to Benito was so striking that I had suppress a shiver of fear. He had the same eyes, those same dead eyes. All of a sudden I was glad Ranger had assigned me a babysitter. There's no way I'd want to come upon Carlito all by myself. Sometimes I wasn't the smartest girl in the Burg, but contrary to popular belief, I didn't really have a death wish.

I called ranger and gave him the information the search had revealed. Then I called Morelli to give him a heads up on the situation. He wasn't happy.

"Stephanie..." he began, but he cut himself off. "No, I'm not going to say it, because you wouldn't listen anyway. Just tell me that Ranger's taking this seriously, at least."

"For your information, Morelli, I'm taking this very seriously." Sometimes his attitude toward my life really sucked. "And yes, so is Ranger. Tank's going to be baby-sitting me until Ramirez is caught."

"Good." Morelli hung up the phone and I blew out a sigh. Men.


	3. Chapter 3

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Three

by EmeraldSoleil

Tank was waiting in the garage for me at five o'clock. I offered him a lopsided grin.

"Guard duty again, huh, Tank?"

He didn't answer. Tank's a quiet guy.

It was an uneventful drive back to my apartment. The weather had turned a little chillier, and leaves had begun to fall across the Burg, promising the return of winter. The scenery was nice, but my mind wasn't on the road.

I pulled into the parking lot with Tank right behind me. The sky was overcast, and I could feel my mood sliding in the same direction. I wasn't looking forward to finding any more surprises in my apartment.

Tank followed me up the stairs, but clapped a hand on my shoulder when we neared my door. I froze when I saw why he'd stopped me. The locks on my door were disengaged and the door was standing wide open.

"Stay here," Tank said as he pulled his gun and disappeared into the apartment.

I waited in the hallway for what seemed like forever, listening for the sounds of gunshots or bodies being slammed to the floor. All was quiet, so I inched toward the doorway and peeked around the frame. Carlito Ramirez wasn't standing in the middle of my living room, so I figured it was safe to go in. As I crossed the threshold, Tank emerged from my bedroom and holstered his gun.

"Who ever was here is gone now." He gestured to the kitchen counter. "But they left you a present."

More dead flowers, only this time there was no crystal vase. The flowers were tied neatly with a black satin ribbon and draped casually on top of Rex's cage. It was a chilling picture. I walked toward the counter and an uneasy feeling started building in the pit of my stomach. My hand moved to lift the flowers and something small and furry rolled out of the leaves.

Alarms started sounding in my brain as I stared at the thing on the counter. I opened my mouth to scream but the sound died in my throat. I sucked in a deep breath, weaving on my feet as my vision started to blur around the edges.

It was Rex. Or rather, it was Rex's head. His little beady eyes stared up at me, black and lifeless.

"Stephanie?" Tank followed my gaze to the counter. "Shit," he swore.

"Rex," I whimpered, feeling my knees buckle beneath me. My vision was getting fuzzier, and my breath came in ragged gasps.

"Stephanie!" Tank moved into my field of vision, blocking my view of poor Rex. His arms came around my waist, supporting my weight and keeping me on my feet. I took a deep breath, but it was too late.

"Oh, god," I said, breaking free from Tank's grip and running for the bathroom. I collapsed on the floor and heaved, sobbing as my stomach clenched painfully. When there was nothing left in my stomach, I curled my knees up to my chest and sat with my back to the wall. Tears were running down my face, but I didn't bother to wipe them away. I closed my eyes, and the sight of poor Rex was burned onto the back of my eyelids.

I lost track of time. It could have been five minutes or five hours later when a shadow filled the bathroom doorway, and a pair of strong arms lifted me up. I opened my eyes to find Ranger looking down at me, his mouth set into a grim line. I buried my face in his chest as he carried me to the living room. He sat me down on the couch and tucked a blanket around me. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see anything but the roses, the black ribbon. The world swirled around me, but my eyes saw nothing.

The activity increased in my apartment, and I saw smudges of blue in the corners of my vision. Cops. The flashbulb of a camera went off and I flinched. I heard voices, but the words wouldn't penetrate the fog surrounding me.

A face swam into focus before me, and I fought to concentrate.

"Cupcake?" I knew the voice.

"Joe?" I whispered. Morelli's arms surrounded me and he pressed his lips to my forehead. I sniffled. His voice was soothing, but I couldn't understand the words. Why couldn't I understand the words?

"She's in shock." A different voice. Ranger's voice.

Their voices melted back into the maelstrom, and exhaustion pushed at the corners of my mind, demanding attention. My eyes drifted closed, and I gave up the fight.

When I woke, it was to the very disorienting feeling that I wasn't alone. Normally, I'm used to this, and it's not a problem. This time, there was something niggling at the back of my mind. Something important I'd forgotten. I heard a cell phone ring in the vicinity of the kitchen, and everything came rushing back. The flowers, Ramirez, and poor Rex.

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to head another breakdown off at the pass. To keep from thinking about it, I concentrated on observing the activity in my apartment.

Most of the cops had gone home. Two uniformed officers stood at the doorway to the kitchen, talking in low voices. Morelli was propped up against the wall talking animatedly into his cell phone. He didn't look happy.

Ranger stood leaning against my bedroom doorway. His muscled arms were crossed on his chest, and his face was set in an expressionless mask. When he noticed I was awake, he crossed the room and perched on the edge of the coffee table.

"You okay?" His voice was quiet, his eyes unreadable.

I took another deep breath. "I think so." No sense dwelling on the fluttery feelings of panic in my stomach.

"Was it Ramirez?" I asked.

Ranger nodded. "He left fingerprints." The hardness in his eyes softened just a fraction, and he pushed a curl behind my ear.

"What about..." I wanted to know what had happened to Rex, but I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

Ranger shook his head. He wasn't going to give me the gory details. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Morelli, his gaze trained on me. His eyes flicked from me to Ranger and back again, and the tight lines around his mouth contracted.

If Ranger could feel Morelli's stare, he gave no indication. "Where are you going to stay tonight?"

"Here." I knew it was stupid. I knew it was stubborn. But, damn it, I owed it to my hamster.

"Not a good idea, Babe."

I just shrugged. There was no easy way to explain why I wanted to stay. Every instinct in my gut was telling me to run, but I wasn't going to let myself be forced out of my home. Not by Ramirez. I wasn't going to give in to that fear.

Ranger must have seen some of that resolve in my face, because he didn't push the issue. "I'll keep a couple of guys around the building tonight, just in case." He pressed a light kiss to my forehead, and then he was gone.

A loud curse sounded through the apartment, and I looked up in time to see Morelli slam his phone shut. He took two long strides across the room and stopped in front of me. I braced myself for what I knew was coming next.

"I'm not leaving."

It took him all of two seconds to recover. "Damn it, Stephanie, this is serious. This guy butchered your hamster, for crying out loud." I flinched at his words, but he didn't notice. "You can't stay here. We don't have any clue where Ramirez is, or where he went after he left here today. This isn't safe."

A part of me knew he was right, and that I should cooperate and let him take me someplace safe. Funny thing was, that part of me was buried under a layer of shock and outrage, and it didn't seem like she wanted to come out anytime soon. Royally pissed and offended Stephanie seemed to have recovered okay, so I let her run with it.

"This is my home, Joe. I'm not leaving." He started to protest, but I interrupted. "I know you think it isn't safe, but this is something I have to do. And it's not like I'm going to be unprotected. Ranger's men will be here. I'll be okay," I said, only partly for his benefit.

We argued for the better part of an hour, but Joe finally got the message that I wasn't backing down. He left, muttering in Italian as he went, and the few cops left hanging around my kitchen followed him out. I locked the door behind them all and headed for the bedroom, trying not to look into the kitchen as I went.

I collapsed on my bed, still wearing my work clothes. Despite the excitement, or maybe because of it, I fell asleep.

Darkness had fallen outside my window when I woke again. I could feel someone else in the bedroom.

"Go away, Ranger," I mumbled, still half asleep.

A long moment passed with no witty comeback, and I started to get that ice cold feeling in the pit of stomach, the one that said maybe it wasn't Ranger standing over the foot of the bed.

Before I had a chance to react, two rough hands clamped down hard on my ankles and hauled me to the foot of the bed. I caught a brief glimpse of Carlito Ramirez before a fist full of knuckles slammed into my temple and the world went black.

AN: This was a harder chapter for me to write than the previous two. It was more difficult than I expected to simultaneously portray Stephanie's fear of Ramirez and her determination not to let it get to her. I guess you guys will have to let me know how I did. :)


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this update took so long. Real life gets in the way sometimes. Thanks again to everyone who took the time to leave reviews; they're very appreciated. Oh, and I finished this chapter at about four in the morning, so any errors in writing are entirely my own fault. :)

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Four

by EmeraldSoleil

I woke up tied to the foot of my bed.

Ramirez had apparently taken advantage of my unconciousness and jerked me off the mattress onto the floor, tying my wrists to the bedrails. I was thinking Carlito must have been a sailor in another life, because the knots in the rope held so tightly that my arms were numb.

To add insult to injury, all my clothes had disappeared.

So there I was, bare-assed on my bedroom floor, my arms thrown out in some creepy parody of the crucifixion, and a ball of fear and nerves in my throat that I could barely breathe around. I had the feeling I was heading up that proverbial creek, and I'd forgotten my paddle back at the dock.

Ramirez was still in my apartment; I could hear muffled footsteps as he moved around the living room. It had been awhile since he'd tied me up. The numbing tingle in my arms testified as much. I was starting to wish he'd hurry up and get it over with, whatever _it_ was. Anything was better than sitting naked in the dark trying to anticipate his next move.

The being naked was the worst part. I didn't know why I was naked. I didn't _want_ to know. I refused to let my mind even wander in the same general direction as the reasons why I might be naked. I was holding up pretty well, under the circumstances, but that fortitude was balanced on a house of cards, and I really didn't want to see it go toppling before it absolutely had to.

I pulled against the ropes, hoping against hope to find a weak spot, but I was stuck. Chewing on my lip, I leaned my head back against the bed and tried to go over my options. There weren't many. Actually, I could only think of one: screaming my head off. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night, and I lived in an apartment building with a bunch of nearly deaf senior citizens. Screaming wasn't going to get me anywhere.

Ranger's men should have been watching the building, but I could only assume that, since Ramirez had managed to break in and tie me up, they were out of commission. Looked like I was on my own for this one. Sobering thought, that.

A noise in the doorway startled me, and my gaze swung upward. Carlito Ramirez' massive form filled the room, and even in the darkness, the empty expression in his eyes pushed a panic button somewhere in my mind. Tendrils of pure terror started to uncurl in my stomach and spread outward.

"Time to wake up, bitch." His voice dripped with the promise of voilence, and I quailed. He laughed and put a boot to my ribs. I gasped at the pain that radiated through my body.

Ramirez bent down and roughly took my naked breast in his hand, squeezing it until I cried out. I could feel the twisted smile in his voice as he leaned in and whispered harshly in my ear. "We're going to have a lot of fun tonight. Wouldn't want you to miss out." Another boot came flying in and I screamed even as I heard the horrifying crunch that was undoubtedly the sound of my rib breaking. My breath came in ragged, painful gasps as I tried to keep myself from sobbing.

"This is just the beginning," Ramirez rasped. "Do you think I wouldn't know what you did to Benito? Leading him around like the whore you are? By the time I'm finished with you, you're going to wish you had let Benito take you." He grabbed my breast again. "But not tonight. This was just to get you used to the idea."

Ramirez stood, leering at me. "I'll be seeing you soon, bitch." And he was gone.

I heard the soft snick of my front door closing, and that small sound was a catalyst. My aching head dropped to my chest and I sobbed. Every bit of fear and anger that I'd been holding in for the past two days came pouring out of me. I cried for Rex, my poor Rex. I cried for myself. I cried until the exhaustion overrode the fear, and I dropped into a fitful sleep.

Morning had nearly passed me by when I clawed my way back out of the darkness. Bright sunlight was screaming through my bedroom window. I shook my head, trying to clear away the cobwebs and the foggy remnants left behind by my crying jag.

My body had solidified into one huge sore muscle, and it protested loudly when I tried to move. I stretched as much as my being spread-eagled to the bed would allow. My ass was numb on the floor, and my arms had gone so far beyond numb that I prayed there wasn't any permanent damage. It was cold in the bedroom, and the rest of me was freezing. With everything that had happened the night before, I'd forgotten to turn the heater on.

I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in my living room, and every cell in my body came to rest, quivering in fear. Please don't let it be Ramirez, I pleaded to no one in particular.

I almost cried aloud in relief when Ranger's muscular form filled the doorway.

Without a word, he pulled a hunting knife from his belt and crouched beside me. He cut the ropes, freeing one wrist and then the other before whipping the quilt from the bed and wrapping it around me. He slipped one arm behind my back as the other came to rest under my knees, and suddenly I was being gently deposited on the bed.

With a slow, painful tingle, the feeling in my arms began to return slowly. I rolled to my side, my fingers stiff as I tried to pull the blanket tighter to me. My teeth chattered in the cold. Ranger knelt beside the bed, his face inches from my own.

"What happened?" His voice carried a steel edge that barely disguised his fury.

"Ramirez," I whispered, drawing in a ragged breath.

Anger flashed hot in Ranger's eyes, but he didn't say anything more. He stood, and my eyes followed him around the room as he pulled clothes from my closet, tossing them on the bed. My modesty forgotten beneath my desire to be warm again, I sat up and let the blanket fall away as I reached for the clothing. I pulled on panties and a bra and slid into a pair of jeans, but when I went to pull the sweatshirt over my head, I ran into a problem. I had both of my arms in the sleeves, and the rest of the material was bunched around my chest. I didn't have enough strenth in my arms to lift the shirt up and over my head.

Ranger sensed my dilemma, and he wordlessly rested my palms against his chest and finished tucking me into the shirt. My fingers fisted in the material of his shirt, and I hissed in pain as his knuckles brushed against my ribs. The lines around Ranger's mouth tightened even more as he lifted the hem of the shirt to just under my breasts and examined my side. His fingers walked gently across my skin, probing. I bit my lip against the pain and discomfort and looked down, surprised to see the angry bruise that had bloomed across my side.

"Can you breath okay?" Ranger asked, and I nodded. "I don't think anything's broken, but we should get you checked out. Your ribs might be cracked."

"No," I argued. "I'm fine, just a little sore. I'll be fine." I was lying through my teeth, but the thought of letting some doctor poke and prod me after what I'd just been through was unbearable. "I just want to get out of here." That was the truth at least. The bedroom was closing in on me, and I wanted away from the apartment.

Thankfully, Ranger didn't argue. "Can you walk?" he asked. I nodded.

I followed him back through the apartment, sparing a sideways glance to the kitchen as we went. My heart twisted as I thought of poor Rex, but I took a deep breath and pushed the sadness back into a corner of my mind. There would be plenty of time for mourning later, when this was all over.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: My apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, but life tends to get more than hectic for me this time of year.

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter 5

By EmeraldSoleil

Downstairs in the parking lot of my apartment building, Ranger folded me carefully into the passenger seat of his Porsche. I snuggled down into the molded leather and closed my eyes. The Porsche was nothing if not comfortable.

Ranger guided the car onto the street, and the ride passed in silence. I could feel his eyes on me when the car stopped for a red light, but I didn't take the bait. I was still trying to assimilate for myself everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. Until I had a chance to push it all back into that tidy corner of my mind where all the creepy, scary, weird things went, I was keeping mum.

The car pulled into the sublevel garage on Haywood Street a few short minutes later. Without a word, I followed Ranger into the elevator, keeping my eyes trained on the slick tile floor as it ascended.

It had been several months since I'd had an occasion to enter Ranger's penthouse apartment, but, with the exception of new, fresh flowers on the sideboard in the foyer, the place hadn't changed at all. Ranger strode out of the foyer and into the bedroom, tension tightening his normally relaxed stride. He emerged moments later holding a first aid kit, and pointed to the couch in the living room.

"Sit," he said, and I had the sense enough to comply. Ranged rifled through the first aid kit, placing various paraphernalia beside me on the couch. Just like the night before, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, my knees between his, and pushed the sleeves of my sweatshirt up to my elbows. His mouth set into a grim line, and I winced as I followed his gaze down to my wrists. The ropes had rubbed the tender skin from my arms, leaving my wrists circled with raw, bloody abrasions. They stung like a bitch.

Ranger said nothing as he applied antibiotic ointment to the wounds, spreading it gently around my arm to cause as little discomfort as possible. It didn't feel too hot, but I bit my lip and kept my mouth shut. I'm sure Ranger had never seen me so quiet or submissive. Finished with the ointment, he picked up a roll of soft gauze and wound it slowly around my arm. When he was finished with the other arm, I looked down again and grimaced. With twin gauze bracelets, I looked like a suicide attempt gone wrong.

Ranger placed my hands gently in my lap and brought his eyes up to meet mine. "I think you need to tell me what happened."

I took a deep breath. I'd been hoping for a little more time for the denial to step in and fill me with bravado, but I opened my mouth, and the whole story came spilling out of me before I had the time to think about it. I told him about coming home to Rex, about waking up to Ramirez, what Ramirez had said, and everything in between. It all came out of me in one big gush, and by the time I was finished, I was sniffling and Ranger didn't look happy.

"C'mon, Babe, " he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the couch. He led me to his bedroom. "Your body's running on adrenaline and fear. You need to sleep." I couldn't disagree with that, especially since the bed in question was looking so damned inviting.

Ranger left the room, and I shucked my jeans and sweatshirt, sliding between the sheets of Ranger's bed with a sigh. It was heaven. I was contemplating where in the world I could buy myself some sheets like Ranger's when I slipped into a deep, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.

It was hours later when I felt Ranger's hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me awake. When I managed to pry my sleep heavy eyes open, he thrust a cell phone into my hand. "Phone, Babe."

I sat up, shaking my head to clear away the cobwebs, and put the phone to my ear. "'Lo?"

"Cupcake, you okay?" It was Joe, and by the flat tone of his voice, I could only assume that Ranger had filled him in on the details of my night.

"Mostly," I said. I flicked a glance in Ranger's direction, suddenly very aware that I was sitting in his bed dressed only in my underwear. I snatched the sheet up to cover the basics and swung my legs off the bed. Reaching for my clothes, I pulled the sweatshirt over my head and turned my attention back to Joe. "I'm a little bruised. No permanent damage."

Morelli sighed. "If the information we have on Carlito Ramirez is accurate, and we think it is, this guy isn't going to be easy to find. And the next time he finds you will be much worse, so you need to keep your head down. Way down." He took a deep breath before uttering his next sentence. "I need you to stick with Ranger for the next couple of days."

I had to replay his words in my head to make sure I'd heard correctly. "You _want_ me to stay with Ranger?" I was incredulous. Ranger, of course, was keeping his opinion on the subject to himself.

"Ramirez can't get to you if you're holed up in Fort Knox. And lord knows no one else in Trenton has the resources or the available manpower to keep you under lock and key."

I was thinking I probably should have taken offense to that comment, but I was too busy almost hyperventilating at the thought of being locked up somewhere with Ranger for an extended period of time.

Ranger, on the other hand, seemed very amused by the circumstances. He was wearing a mysterious smile when I hung up the phone.

"All right, wise guy. What's so funny?"

"Just wondering how well Morelli's thought this through." Probably not very. He hadn't seemed nearly agitated enough.

"Exactly what is _this_?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Babe, just think of it as spur of the moment vacation."

"A vacation? Ranger, a vacation involves a beach, a nice hotel room with a view, maybe a cabana boy to bring me margaritas. Getting stuffed in a safe house is not my idea of a vacation."

Ranger moved across the room to stand in front of me, and when he spoke, his voice had lost it's teasing tone. "I know this is going to be hard for you. You don't like to follow orders, and you don't like to stand by the sidelines, but I need you to try. Really hard. Because if I can trust you to behave yourself, I can spend that much more energy on the street looking for Ramirez."

I tilted my head and thought about it. What he said made perfect sense. Ramirez had done a very good job terrifying the shit out of me, and I had no desire to serve myself up for an encore.

"Where exactly am I going to be staying?"

"Here."

"_Here_, here?" I squeaked. I'd assumed Ranger would put me in a safehouse. The thought of camping out in his personal space, even though I'd done it before, was a little unnerving.

"It's the most convenient. The guys in the control room can keep an eye on you without having to stand guard outside your door. You'll be able to have a little privacy, and you'll be able to come and go in the building as much as you want. If you need to leave for some reason, you don't leave without me."

"So, what, you're stuck to me like glue now?"

Ranger smiled, and fixed his stare on me. He took two steps forward, leaning down so his body skimmed mine in the bed. When he spoke, the rough timber of his voice sent bolts of heat shooting through my body.

"Every minute of the day," he said, his lips just brushing the shell of my ear.

Oh, boy, I thought. I was in for it now.


	6. Chapter 6

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter 6

by EmeraldSoleil

Later that evening, Ranger and I climbed into his BMW and made the short drive across town to my apartment. He didn't think it was very smart to be heading back to the scene of the crime so soon, but as I had a very strong objection to spending the next few days wearing the same pair of underwear, he relented.

Unbeknownst to me, Ranger had brought someone in to "clean" my apartment. Every physical trace of Ramirez was wiped away. Rex's cage was missing from my kitchen counter, and the ropes that dangled from my bedposts had been cut away and disposed of. I was silently grateful. Coming home was hard enough without visual reminders of what had happened.

Ranger relaxed on my couch while I moved through the apartment, throwing things haphazardly into a duffel bag like a woman possessed. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back as I passed through the living room to get to the bathroom, and I felt a familiar warmth spread through the pit of my stomach. Leave it to me to get all hot and bothered on my way into exile. I was pathetic.

In the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror and had to stifle a scream. Apparently I didn't do too great a job, because seconds later, Ranger's muscular frame filled the doorway.

"Problem, Babe?"

"Problem? Ranger, why didn't you tell me I was a walking advertisement for a battered women's shelter?" It was true. An angry bruise had spread across the top portion of my face where Ramirez's knuckles had made contact with my temple. The bruise strecthed across my forehead and down my cheekbone, giving me the worst shiner I'd ever seen. It looked like a creepy Halloween mask gone horribly wrong.

Ranger obviously didn't feel that my question was deserving of a response, because he ducked back out of the bathroom without a word. Trying to ignore the battered woman in the mirror, I threw my toiletries in the bag and met Ranger back in the living room.

"Is anyone having any luck finding any information about Ramirez?" I asked Ranger as we rode back to the Rangeman building.

"Not much," he answered, and I saw the muscle in his jaw clench. It wasn't like Ranger to idly sit by the sidelines, and I would bet a year's worth of TastyKakes that it wouldn't be long before he was out on the street looking for Ramirez himself. Lots of bad things would probably happen to Carlito Ramirez if Ranger happened to find him before the cops did, but I really couldn't dredge up any sympathy for the guy.

I nodded in acknowledgement and Ranger turned his attention back to his driving. Ranger drove like he did everything else in life - with complete control. His left hand guided the steering wheel with a firm grip while the fingers of his right hand curled loosely on the gear shift. Yet another difference between Ranger and myself. When I drove, more often than not, I had one hand in my purse, the other holding my cell phone to my ear, and my left knee was doing all the steering. A poster child for Driver Safety class I wasn't.

Back at RangeMan, Ranger opted to return to the control room, leaving me to get settled into the lion's den all by my lonesome. Not that there was much settling to do. I didn't exactly feel comfortable lining all my clothes up in the closet next to Ranger's, so I dropped the duffel bag on the floor inside the bedroom and flopped on the couch, flipping on the TV.

I woke up on the edge of a scream, clawing at the soft fabric that upholstered Ranger's couch. The nightmare still hung in a tangible cloud around my head, and I was having a hell of a time catching my breath. A few minutes later, my heart rate had returned from it's vacation in the upper stratosphere, but the hard knot of fear that had formed in my throat had yet to subside.

Gasping for breath, I burst out of the apartment and considered my options. Honestly, I didn't know what the hell I was doing running away from Ranger's living room, but I felt like I had to run _somewhere_. I was desperate to get away from the fear that permeated the air around me.

I stood in the foyer in front of the elevator, my hand two inches from the call button. I didn't really want to go downstairs. Downstairs meant people, and people meant explaining why I wasn't asleep at three in the morning. I really wasn't in the mood to lay all my psychological shortcomings on the Merry Men.

I drew my hand back and made for the end of the short hallway, toward the door that I could only assume led to the roof. I turned the handle to find a narrow staircase leading upwards. Jackpot. I ran up the steps and burst out of a second door into the October night.

Inhaling the cold air, I wrapped my arms to my chest and leaned against the roof railing. The world looked a little smaller from my vantage point, small and peaceful and a little less dangerous. But I knew better. Somewhere out there Carlito Ramirez was waiting for me to let down my guard. Waiting to sneak in and finish me off. I felt the fear coming over me again, rising from my stomach with a speed that threatened to suffocate me.

Placing one hand on the railing to steady myself, I sank down to the cold concrete and drew my knees to chest. I was on the verge of hyperventilating when the roof door opened and a shadow stepped out. It was Ranger, dressed in black cargo pants and a black squall jacket. He'd obviously been working. The utility belt fastened tight around his waist drew my attention to his hips as he crossed the roof to crouch in front of me.

"Cold?" he asked, but before I could reply, he'd shrugged out of his jacket and thrown it over my shoulders. I curled my fingers in the fabric and pulled it around me, breathing deep. The jacket smelled like Ranger, masculine heat with a faint whisper of Bulgari. The familiar scent was calming and I could feel the strangling fear start to recede.

Ranger stood and grabbed my hand, pulling me up to stand with him. His dark eyes searched mine as his thumb made small, reassuring circles on the back of my hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I freaked out," I said, drawing in a shaky breath. I averted my eyes, not comfortable sharing my weakness.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, Babe," he whispered.

I took another deep breath and the cold October air stung my nose. "What are you doing up here?"

"Tank called. He said you freaked out." Even in the darkness, I could see the smallest of smiles play across he features. I didn't quite have the energy to smile back.

"I half expected someone to come tearing up here after me." After all, who knows how many cameras had caught my escape?

"I told him not to. Figured you could probably use some air."

I had a nightmare, and then I woke up and the apartment was so quiet..." I let my words trail off into nothingness and chewed on my lip in frustration. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn't used to feeling so...victimized. I mean, for Christ's sake, I'd been attacked before. I'd even been shot before, and I'd turned out okay. But now I couldn't seem to conquer the fear that had moved in and made itself at home.

"Babe?" Ranger was looking at me with concerned eyes, and I hated it. I hated being the weak one, the one who always needed looking after.

I dropped Ranger's hand and turned around, leaning against the railing and breathing deep. Ranger placed his hands on my shoulders and I felt my muscles tense. My entire body felt like it was torn between fight or flight.

"Babe," a little quieter this time, and I turned back to him.

"I don't like feeling this way," I confessed.

"What way?"

"Afraid." There were unshed tears in my eyes as I spoke and I hated myself for it.

Ranger dropped a kiss on my head and moved his hands to cup my face. "Like I said before, nothing to ashamed of." He turned to go.

"Ranger," I whispered.

He turned back at the door. "I'll be downstairs."

I nodded and he disappeared into the darkness.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to the apartment, and Ranger was seated on the couch, head back and eyes closed.

"Had a long night?" I asked.

"Trying to find out what the street has to say about Ramirez."

"And?"

"The streets are quiet."

I knew what that meant. Ramirez was hiding, and he was hiding well. I suppressed a shudder.

"I've got men beating down doors, tracking down leads, and so far there's been nothing." He dragged a hand down his face, the only betrayal of his fatigue.

"He can't hide forever," I reasoned as I sat on the opposite end of the couch, curling my legs up under me.

"No, he can't," affirmed Ranger as he leaned forward and slid me a sideways glance. "Until then, we're going to have to find a remedy for these nightmare's of yours." Ranger's face was serious, but amusement, and something warmer, danced in his eyes. All of a sudden, he didn't look so tired anymore. He leaned closer, brushing the softest of kisses along my jawline before whispering in my ear, "Maybe you just need something to take your mind off your troubles."

I felt a shiver run down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.

My eyes widened, and I tried to lean into the couch cushion, but Ranger's hand on my neck backed my retreat. His chocolate eyes grew dangerously dark, and I could feel the cold knot of fear in my stomach begin to melt away under the heat of his gaze. It was replaced by a liquid fire that I would probably do well not to think about.

"Ranger," I began, but my words were lost as he crossed the last millimeters between us and touched his lips to mine.


	7. Chapter 7

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter 7

by EmeraldSoleil

Before I knew what the hell was going on, I was flat on my back on the couch with the bulk of Ranger's muscular form pressing me into the cushions. His tongue was in my mouth, his hands were inching slowly toward second base, and no nightmare could compete with the heat that radiated through his skin.

I was halfway to naked, and enjoying every second of it, when a sharp knock echoed off the apartment door. Ranger bit out a muffled curse, rolling off the couch and onto his feet. He pressed a swift, hard kiss to my mouth and pulled me up to stand beside him. "That's Tank," he said as he skillfully manuevered my shirt back into place.

"He has impeccable timing," I deadpanned, and Ranger flashed a smile at me that threatened to buckle my knees. "I guess this means you're going back out?"

"Most likely."

"Can I come?" If it had been anyone other than Ranger, I wouldn't have bothered asking, but Ranger had ways of making me stay put whether I wanted to or not. I figured the only way to get what I wanted was to ask really nicely.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On what Tank has to say," he replied, moving into the foyer. That was a good enough answer for me, and I made my way into the bedroom to tame my "I've been making out on the couch with Ranger" hair. Hoping I'd eventually be able to wheedle Ranger into taking me along, I pulled my work clothes out of the duffel bag I'd left in the bedroom. Black cargo pants, black tee shirt, black windbreaker. The only thing that didn't go with my badass uniform was my decidedly un-badass hair. I stole a look in the bathroom mirror, gave my curls up as a lost cause, and stuffed the whole mess under my SEALs cap.

When I returned to the living room, Ranger was once again seated on the couch. He was leaning forward, elbows on knees, his attention on a pile of eight-by-ten glossies spread out on the coffee table. The expression on his face was unreadable, and, as seemed to be happening far too often lately, my insides started squirming again.

Tank sent a clipped nod in my direction, his equivilant to an enthusiastic greeting. I didn't hold it against him. I wasn't a great people person at three in the morning either. "Do I want to know what those are?" I asked, sending a pointed glance to the photos.

Ranger's expressionless mask slipped a little when he saw my getup, and the corners of his mouth tipped up in amusement. "Optimistic, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Just figured it wouldn't hurt my case to be prepared."

Ranger held up one of the pictures, and the grim set returned to his features. "These were dropped off about twenty minutes ago by a courier service."

I stared at the photograph and fought back the urge to be sick. It was a black and white print, but the absence of color did nothing to curb the graphic effect of the subject. The photo was of me, naked and spread-eagled, tied to my bed rails. Ramirez had obviously used my unconsciousness as an opportunity for a photo shoot. And the fact that the result of that photo shoot had been dropped off at RangeMan told me something very important.

"He knows I'm staying here." I said, a ball of despair forming in my gut. "What does this mean?"

"It means no field trips for you," Ranger replied, gathering the photos into a neat stack and handing them back to Tank. "Send copies of these to Morelli in the morning so the crime lab can have a crack at them."

Tank made his exit, photos in hand, and I turned my attention back to Ranger. "Is Morelli the lead on this case? He didn't say too much about it on the phone."

"No. But he'll make sure those pictures don't get passed around the cop shop like the Sunday paper."

"So what's next? What are we going to do about Ramirez now?" I pulled the ballcap off my head and ran a tired hand through my curls. It had been such a long day, and I had run the full gamut of my emotional capacity in less than twelve hours.

Ranger stood, taking the cap from my fingers and tossing it on the coffee table. "We'll worry about Ramirez in the morning. Right now all either of us is fit to do is sleep."

Suddenly sleep seemed like a very good idea. But there was just one problem..."Um, Ranger?"

"Yeah, Babe?"

"About the sleeping arrangements..."

He smiled at my obvious discomfort. "That's your decision, but if it helps, I promise to keep my hands to myself. For now," he added, dropping a quick kiss on my lips.

That was enough for me. Ranger retreated to the bathroom, and I shed my clothes, dropping a too-big tee shirt over my head and climbing between the sheets of Ranger's bed. I heard the shower start up, and I rolled over onto my stomach, tucking my arms under the pillow. The sound of the water pounding against the tiles in the other room was rythmic, soothing. I was tired, my body exhausted, but my mind was awake and alert. And very aware of the fact that a nearly naked Ranger would soon be crawling into bed beside me. Ranger might be able to switch off the effects of the sexual tension between us whenever he wanted, but me, I was only human.

Sometimes, on particularly rotten days like today, I wondered why it seemed so easy for him. And I wondered what he was getting out of it in the first place. After our first and only night together, Ranger and I came to an unspoken mutual agreement. I'm not the kind of girl who gives herself up for a casual fling, and Ranger doesn't seem to do anything but, so it was obvious, to me at least, that whatever we were doing wasn't going anywhere. But that doesn't seem to stop him from pressing his advantage every now and then, though to what end I can't even imagine.

The sound of the shower ended abruptly, and I felt my heartbeat ratchet up a couple of notches. This was a bad idea. This was the mother of all bad ideas. But unless I wanted to get stuffed in a safe house with nought but a bodyguard for company, I was stuck.

Ranger emerged from the bathroom, and I snapped my eyes shut. Not that he would be fooled at all, but I figured not seeing Ranger right out of the shower would go a long way to helping me keep my hands to myself.

Ranger slid into bed beside me, and my breath caught as a cloud of Bulgari washed over me. God, this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Stephanie."

Okay, Stephanie, just pretend to be asleep. Maybe he'll roll over and leave you alone.

"I know you're awake, Babe. You're holding your breath."

Damn. So much for avoiding the view.

I popped an eye open to find Ranger propped up on his elbow, his face barely six inches from mine. His hair was loose and still wet from the shower. And the Eye of the Tiger was fixed directly on me.

"What's up?" I cringed inwardly even as the words flew out of my mouth. I'm such a dork sometimes.

"Are you okay?" His eyes narrowed in concern and his free hand came up tuck an unruly strand of hair behind my ear.

Okay? Huh? "Huh?"

"You've been through a lot the past couple of days. Are you sure you're okay?"

I don't know what it was. I don't know if it was the way he was looking at me, or if it was the way his eyes softened even more as he waited for me to answer, but I snapped. I flung myself out of the bed and began to pace the bedroom.

"You know what, Ranger? I'm just fine. After all, why shouldn't I be fine? There's a homicidal maniac tracking my every move, waiting for me to slip up so he can sneak in and finish me off, but what's new about that? Absolutely nothing, that's what. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I weren't in some sort of danger, right? So this latest development should be right up my alley. Right up my dangerous, irresponsible, full-of-bad-luck-and-even-worse-decisions alley. So, yeah, I'm fine. I'm peachy-fucking-keen. Never mind that I got strung up to my own bed. Never mind that there are pictures of me, _naked pictures of_ _me_, that are sure to be floating around the police station in two hours, no matter how hard Morelli tries to keep them under wraps. And will I get a cut of all the money that will change hands after this latest development? No, I won't. But that's okay. You know why? Because I'm fine, that's why!"

I ran out of breath, and stood at the foot of the bed sucking in air like I'd just run a marathon. My nerves were shot, my hands were shaking, and after my outburst I was having trouble looking Ranger in the eye. After a few seconds of heavy silence, I chanced a glance at him, only to have my anger renewed. He was sitting on the bed, propped against the headboard, and the bastard was laughing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I screeched at him. "No, you know what? I don't care. Laugh it up. I'm leaving." I turned on my heel and started to stalk out of the bedroom, but Ranger was out of bed and blocking the doorway before I could make my escape.

"Get out of my way."

"No."

_"Get out of my way!"_

"No."

"God, Ranger, what is it with you? Are you running your own little social experiment here? Trying to see how much you can fuck with my mind?" I was fuming now. "I don't need to put up with this. If I want to be ridiculed, I can go to my mother's. Now get out of my way."

Ranger smiled again, and I was _thisclose _to doing something crazy. Like popping him in the nose. Or introducing my knee to his groin. What can I say? Apparently the angry Jersey girl in me doesn't care a whole lot about self-preservation. I guess Ranger could see the murderous intent in my eyes, because he caught both my wrists in his strong grip and walked purposefully away from the doorway, pushing me with him across the room. His face settled into the crook of my neck, and the weight of his body pinned me to the far wall, preventing my escape.

"Welcome back, Babe." The low, almost gravelly timber of his voice damn near set the nerve endings in my ear on fire.

"Back? What are you talking about, back?" He'd pulled a complete one-eighty on me in the space of two seconds, and my head was starting to spin. I droppped my head onto his shoulder and bit back the urge to scream in frustration. "I didn't go anywhere," I mumbled as an afterthought.

Ranger stepped back from me and moved his hands up to cradle my face, his dark eyes searching mine. His expression was serious as he replied, "Not physically, you didn't."

"Okay, Ranger, it's almost four in the morning. My mind isn't up for solving riddles. Can you please cut out the Man of Mystery crap and tell me what the hell you're talking about?"

"Let me put it this way. When I showed you those pictures, I expected you to try to rant and rave and run out of my apartment, threatening death and pain to Carlito Ramirez. What I got was a look of resignation and acceptance. I didn't like it."

"Oh." What else was I suppose to say? Thanks for unearthing my righteous anger and sarcasm? The truth was, I hadn't even realized that I'd been retreating more into myself. But I was definitely starting to feel like myself again. It's amazing what a screaming tirade could do for a girl's self-confidence. I was definitely back, and I was ready to start kicking some ass. In the morning. After lots of sleep. And maybe an Egg McMuffin.

"Can I go back to bed now?" I whined at Ranger, hoping a sudden subject change would head off any more introspection for the night. I already had enough to think about as it was.

He smiled at me, apparently satisfied that I'd had myself a lightbulb moment. "Yeah, Babe. Let's go back to bed."


	8. Chapter 8

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Eight

by Emerald

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in the bed. I had a vague memory of Ranger nudging me in the shoulder and whispering something to me sometime around dawn, but his words had gotten lost somewhere between my ears and my brain.

I dragged myself to edge of the bed and threw my legs over the side. The clock on Ranger's bedside table read nine o'clock. Early enough to crawl back under the covers if I wanted, but I fought the inner voice that told me to bury myself under the blankets and never emerge. Ramirez wasn't going to go away, no matter how much I wished he would. The only way to get my life back was to get out of bed and get on with it.

After digging around in my bag for clothes, I cranked the water in Ranger's enormous shower all the way to scalding and stepped under the spray. When I was shriveled like a prune and starting to lose hot water, I shut the shower off, towel-dried, and pulled on a pair of dark jeans and a black knit top. Not quite my work uniform, but Ranger would just have to get over it.

All eyes were on me when I entered the control room. Ignoring the stares, I marched straight over to Tank, who sat unmoving in front of a bank of surveillance monitors.

"What's new?" I asked.

"Ramirez robbed a Gas-N-Go at about five-thirty this morning before dropping back off the map. Shot the night clerk between the eyes with a 9 mil. Ranger's down there now with the cops." He turned his attention back to the monitors and I took that to mean I'd been dismissed.

I crossed the room to my own small cubicle, figuring that if I was stuck at Rangeman all day, I might as well get some work done. My inbox was full and I snagged the top file from the pile, determined, if not eager, to get something accomplished.

My cell rang a little before noon. It was Joe.

"How are you holding up?"

"Okay," I said. "I'm working. What about you?"

"I'm up to my eyeballs in witnesses, all of whom conveniently had their eyes closed the exact moment Ramirez climbed into a stolen car. It's rough going. People are afraid of Ramirez."

No kidding. I blew out a forceful sigh.

"Oh, no," Morelli said, misunderstanding my frustration for impatience. "I know that sound. That's the sound you make when you're _thisclose_ to tearing off after some lunatic on your own. Promise me you're not planning on doing that. I don't think my nerves could handle it."

"I'm pretty much on lock down," I informed him. "I can't leave the building without a babysitter."

"Good. Stay safe." And he disconnected.

I had made a respectable dent in the amount of work in my inbox when Ranger returned from the crime scene. His shoulders were set in frustration and annoyance and his face betrayed his level of exhaustion. He tipped his head in my direction before moving over to join Tank. They fell into a muffled coversation and I turned my attention back to my inbox. I might be a slow learner sometimes, but I know not to pester Ranger when he's got that look on his face. I try not to do things that are detrimental to my health and well being. Well, most of the time, anyway.

Two hours later I had a pile of completed searches sitting in my outbox and my neck was stiff from staring at the computer monitor for so long. I stood, rubbing my tired eyes. The past two nights were starting to catch up with me and an afternoon nap was starting to seem like a great idea.

I didn't notice Ranger on the control room floor when I left to get on the elevator. I assumed he was back out on the streets, trying to unearth Ramirez, so when I ran into him in the foyer of the penthouse apartment, I screamed. And lashed out at him with my fists. It was a complete knee-jerk reaction brought on my his unexpected presence and the chemical cocktail of fear and anxiety that was running just under my smartass exterior.

"Whoa, whoa," said Ranger as he wrapped both arms around me, effectively ending my attack. "It's all right. It's just me."

Fighting the urge to stop hyperventilating, I sucked in two deep breaths and tried to will my tensed muscles into relaxation.

"Sorry," I mumbled into Ranger's chest. "Guess I'm a little keyed up."

"Guess so." He moved his hand to the back of my neck and began kneading the stiff muscles there. I moaned and leaned my head on his shoulder, giving his magic fingers better access.

"That feels like heaven." And it did. I didn't realize quite how tense I'd been until some of the stress started melting away.

I could feel Ranger laughing quietly against me. His hands still and he stepped away from me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the couch.

"Sit."

I did, and he sat beside me, turning my body so my back was to his stomach. His hands started to work on my shoulders, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from moaning again.

"You know," Ranger said, "this would be a lot easier if you took your shirt off."

I bit my lip, weighing the intelligence of removing any major articles of clothing in Ranger's presence against the benefits his hands were working on my sore, tired muscles. Common sense lost out. I grabbed at the hem of my shirt, and yanked it over my head, trying to ignore that little voice in my ear that hinted this wasn't a good idea.

Get a grip, Steph, I said to my self. It's just a backrub, not hot gorilla sex. Except that was exactly what it felt like. Lately, even standing in the same room with Ranger felt like foreplay. The logical part of my brain told me that I should get up, put my shirt on and go back to work. I opted for conversation instead.

"What are you doing up here in the middle of the day?"

I came up for lunch, and to take a breather. I was getting frustrated and impatient and I was taking it out on my men."

"I take it this means there's no more news on Ramirez?"

"No." Ranger's hands stilled on my skin. "Feel better?"

"Better than I should," I said, the words slipping out before I could reel them back in.

"That's encouraging." He pressed a soft kiss to the nape of my neck and I could feel his lips curve into a smile.

"Don't be getting any ideas."

"Too late, babe." He dropped another kiss on my shoulder and stood. "I'm heading back down. You coming?"

I shook my head. I was heading for the bedroom; I still wanted a nap.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: I would just like to thank all of the readers who reviewed the previous chapter of this story. It has been a LONG time since I started this story, and I never meant to leave it unfinished. However, real life does get in the way and sometimes the muse just goes on extended vacation. It makes a writer happy when the readers still have good things to say, even after such an extended break in the story.

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Nine

by Emerald

Before I knew it, a week had slipped by. There was no progress in the case, not even a clue about where Ramirez was hiding. The knowledge was comforting and frustrating all at the same time: comforting because I was still alive and in one piece, frustrating because that meant Ramirez was still out there, biding his time. And it also meant that Ramirez wasn't as stupid as we all hoped he was.

Ranger had been scarce for days. I mostly saw him in passing, just long enough to get updates on Ramirez. As the week wore on, his temper grew shorter, and I could tell the failed search was wearing on him. It was wearing on me, too. Being cooped up inside Rangeman, no matter how large the building was, had given me a serious case of cabin fever.

And that's exactly why I cornered Ranger one evening as he entered the apartment. I crossed my arms on my chest, planted my feet at shoulder width, and tried to pretend I wasn't terrified of the glare he threw my way.

"This isn't working."

Ranger dropped his keys in the silver tray on the console table, shrugged his jacket off, and glared at me again.

"Babe."

"I'm serious, Ranger. This isn't working. We need to try something else, some other way to catch Ramirez. I'm going crazy in here, and it's all for nothing. We're not any closer to catching him than we were at the start of the week."

"All for nothing, huh?" He stalked closer to me, and I swear I could see the anger rolling off of him in waves. "I've spent every waking minute available to me pounding the pavement, calling in favors, risking the delicate working balance I have with some very important people so I can catch this asshole. So I can keep you alive. You're telling me that's nothing?"

Well, shit. When he put it like that I sounded like an ungrateful bitch. Felt like one, too. But I still couldn't let it go.

"So I'm supposed to live here forever? Your apartment's nice, Ranger, but I miss my own bed. My own kitchen. My family. I can't just stay locked up in here indefinitely. It could take weeks to catch Ramirez, maybe months. He's not coming out of hiding unless he's got a good reason."

Ranger took a few heavy breaths before exhaling forcefully. "You have a point. I don't like it one bit, but you definitely have a point."

"Good. Now what?" I was ready to throw my clothes in my duffel and hit the road, but apparently Ranger had other plans.

"Now we eat dinner. And after dinner, you're going to prove to me you're capable of defending yourself."

"What?"

"I might agree that we're spinning our wheels at the moment, but there's no way I'm putting you back out on the streets without some reassurance that you'll have a fighting chance against Ramirez if he corners you. I'll have every precaution in place to prevent that from happening, but your track record speaks for itself."

We ate standing up in the kitchen, an uneasy silence stretched between us. I was nervous, anxious, tired. Ranger looked all those things and more.

After dinner I rinsed my plate in the sink and wiped down the counters for something to do. I could feel Ranger watching me as I moved, his eyes tracking me as I walked across the sink to the fridge and back. I dropped the sponge on the sideboard and started to walk out of the room when Ranger's arm shot out and caught me by the elbow. He pulled me to him, snaking one arm around my waist and pressing my body against his. We stood there for one long moment, every part of our bodies touching. Ranger's eyes were smiling. I'm sure mine were wary, and confused.

"What are you doing?" I asked suspiciously. Normally, my strong sense of self-preservation, and my even stronger desire not to start a war between Morelli and Ranger kept me able to withstand the temptation Ranger was constantly throwing in my path. But I knew, and I suspected he did as well, that any real effort to seduce me on his part would turn me into a melting puddle at his feet. After all, it had worked pretty damn well for him the first time around.

Ranger smiled a cheshire smile and leaned in close so that his whispered words, just barely audible to my ear, sent thrilling chills down my neck and straight to my....well, you know. "Dessert, babe."

And he kissed me.

And I swear the world tipped over.

I've long suspected Ranger of pulling his punches when he lays his hands, or lips, on me. Now I had evidence. Never before had my body reacted to him in this way. His tongue touched my lips and I whimpered. I arched against him, my body taken over by the most basic of instincts. His hands traveled the length of my spine, igniting my nerve endings and it was all I could do to remember to breathe.

The kiss deepened. My hands traced the defined lines of Ranger's chest and abdomen as his slipped under the tight knit of my shirt. The zipper was halfway down on his jeans when the alarm bells started going off in my head.

With a concentrated force of effort, I stepped out of his embrace, holding him at arms length with a trembling hand. We were both breathing heavily, and Ranger's eyes were as dark and heavy as the night sky.

"Babe," he said.

"Don't babe me, you...you...Oh, I don't know what you are!" I exclaimed. "What the hell was that about?" I was yelling, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. My entire body was blazing like wildfire.

He smiled at me, a full smile that showed his perfect, white teeth, and I almost melted all over again. Almost, but not quite. "You're going to be in a really bad mood in about," he glanced at his watch, "five minutes. I try not make a habit of kissing angry women who are carrying guns." He slung an arm around my shoulder and started to drag me toward the door. "We're going to the shooting range, babe. And you're going to shoot that pitiful gun of yours until you can do it in your sleep."

Damn. I hate the shooting range. I carry a gun as a requirement of working for Ranger. But that doesn't mean I like guns, or that I even keep mine loaded. Ranger tolerates my dislike of firearms, to a point, and doesn't make an issue unless I'm working as a fill in for one of the guys. And normally, I'm able to weasel out of my weekly target practice requirement. I sighed and let Ranger drag me into the elevator. If I had to shoot some little paper men to get a little bit of freedom, I'd do it. I wouldn't like it, but I'd do it.

"You'd better tell Ella to make a run to the bakery," I told him as the elevator descended toward the basement. "because I'm going to need doughnuts after this."


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I didn't intend for this chapter to be quite so short. However, I have no idea where this story is going. I did, once upon a time, but not anymore. So, I'm posting as a reach a natural stopping point, with no promises as to when the next installment will come. I'm sure that's not what readers like to hear, but I've never been one just to tap out some words to get the story finished.

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter 10

by Emerald

"Your stance is pitiful, babe." Ranger's voice was muffled through the headgear I wore to protect my ears from the sound of my .38 discharging in the small, confined space of the firing range. Even though he couldn't see my face, I rolled my eyes at his comment, and pushed myself to concentrate on the target at the end of the shooting alley.

"You're not helping, Ranger." I squeezed off two more shots. The first missed the target completely, and the second put a neat hole in the blank space around the white outline on the paper. My .38 empty, I stepped away from the alley and turned to face him. "I'm tired. My arms hurt."

"You're not even trying." Ranger said accusingly, and I felt a small wash of guilt. He was right, of course. I had fallen right back into my old stubborn ways, resisting help at every turn. This time, though, I had the good sense to realize it wasn't going to do me any good. Ranger was trying to give me the skills I needed to survive against a psychopath who wanted to murder me. The least I could do was put in the effort.

"You're right," I conceded. "I'm not. I'm sorry. I just don't like this. I don't like carrying a gun, and I don't like shooting guns. Most of all, I don't like that I'm being forced to do both by an asshole who's a few rounds short of a magazine." I held my hand out, palm up, for the box of extra ammo Ranger had carried down with us. "Now give me the damn bullets before I change my mind."

He did, and I busied myself with reloading the gun. Ready to shoot again, I stepped back into the alley, but Ranger's hands closed over my shoulders.

"Let's try something different," he suggested as he moved to stand behind me. "Close your eyes."

" No. No way!" I could see it now, me shooting Ranger in the knee cap because he had me doing something stupid like _closing my eyes._

"Close your eyes, Stephanie." His voice was low, but serious in my ear. "Trust me."

I drew in an unsteady breath, unsure of myself, but willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I started when his body pressed close to mine and his arms came around me, his hands resting over my wrists. He drew my arms up, and my fingers curled around the butt of the gun. His hands moved to my hips next, adjusting my stance until one foot was resting slightly in front of the other. He wrapped his arms back around me, overlapped his hands on mine, and settled his jaw in the crook of my neck next to my ear.

"Relax your muscles," he said. "You're holding too much tension in your shoulders and it's throwing your aim off. Put your weight on your back leg, but brace yourself with your front. Good," he said as I complied with his instructions. "That's good. Notice how different that feels?"

I nodded. The stance felt natural, or as natural as it could, given that I still held a gun in my hand. I relaxed a bit more, enjoying Ranger's comforting warmth at my back.

A motor whirred somewhere above me; Ranger had pushed the button to draw in and reload the target. I concentrated on my stance while he hung a new target on the track.

Under other circumstances, being confined to the shooting range with Ranger pressed against my body in several strategic places would have had me a flustered mess, but I was calm. Comfortable, even. I didn't try to delude myself into thinking I was suddenly immune to his physical presence. No, I could feel a gentle, warming buzz under my skin, but it fell away into the background as I concentrated on the feel of the gun in my hands and the placement of my feet on the ground. It felt right, for once, and I could feel my distaste for the gun lessen minutely. Ranger's calming presence behind me filled me with confidence.

"I think I'm ready," I said. My grip tightened on the .38 in anticipation.

"Okay," Ranger said. "When you open your eyes, don't think about the gun. Just concentrate on the target, visualize where you want the shot to go. Then pull the trigger and let the bullet do the rest." I heard a click as the target snapped into place at the end of the gallery.

I opened my eyes, ready to shoot the hell out of the little paper man, but instead was confronted with the life size image of Carlito Ramirez. I froze, and all of my confidence of a few minutes before drained out of me and a cold terror took it's place in my chest. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I blinked them away.

I took a deep breath, hating Ranger for having done this to me, but having enough sense to recognize his reasoning. I needed to be able to face Ramirez. I needed to know that I wouldn't freeze up at the crucial moment and get myself killed. I needed to overcome the fear.

I stared at the target for a long moment, at the manic face of Ramirez, until I felt my resolve begin to gather again. I took a deep breath, cleared my mind, and squeezed the trigger several times in succession. I didn't pause to see where the bullets landed on the target. When a solid _click_told me the chamber was empty and I was out of rounds, I put the gun on the short shelf that separated me from the gallery and removed my protective headgear.

I stepped back, leaning my weight against Ranger's muscular chest as the target spooled back toward us. He wrapped his arms around me, and we stood quietly while the target snapped into place.

"Not too shabby, babe." And he was right. Every shot had hit it's mark, and two had even hit center mass.

"I'd frame that if it wasn't a picture of Ramirez," I joked, managing to get a small laugh out of Ranger.

"I still might," he answered, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned and dropped a quick kiss on my forehead. "You did good, babe. Good, but you still need practice. I want you down here every morning after breakfast, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" I mock saluted him and failed to hide a grin. I couldn't help it, I was proud of myself, of what I had accomplished. Ranger just shook his head and pulled me toward the elevator.


End file.
